


Wedding Night

by SpaceIdiot



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Erotica, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Nudity, Soft bondage, dulcie is a dominatrix, fucking yoiks this is my first erotica, hastings doesn't mind at all, in fact he rather likes it, soft domination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 11:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceIdiot/pseuds/SpaceIdiot
Summary: Arthur Hastings had no idea that things would get quite so exciting, quite so quickly after he married Dulcie Duveen. Not that he complained.





	Wedding Night

**Author's Note:**

> Well shit, this is the first erotica I've ever been even tempted to post... I've no idea if it's even slightly realistic, but I tried to do some research on things sooooo???????? I've honestly no idea if I'll leave it up here for long, I might get too embarrassed. Seriously this has been my guilty pleasure for ages and aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Dulcie Duveen knew her way around the marriage bed. Not that she had been married before, but a girl like her could not help but discover what she liked quite early on. For her fiancé’s sake, she’d not pushed for sex before marriage, knowing he was a traditionalist. Despite her affinity to generally deviant sexual behavior, she was willing to sacrifice for the man she loved. But now they were married, and she had had almost a year of desire built up, she was not willing to wait any longer.  
They boarded their boat, which was to set off to their honeymoon destination, at roughly 8 pm. The wedding had been lovely, but she was ready to rip off her clean white dress and have her man just where she liked him. He had his back to her as he unpacked his suitcase and hung up is shirts, so they didn’t wrinkle. A habit he had learned from a friend. She ducked into the bathroom, a bag she had called her “surprise for their wedding night,” tucked under her arm. She pulled off her dress and slipped on a provocative black set of bra, top pants, and garters. She smiled thinking how flustered he would get seeing her in them. Last, but not least, she put on a pair of high black heals. These had all been custom made for her by a discrete tailor in France.  
She went back out to their main room, where her husband still stood, his back to her, unpacking his things. She slid up behind him, slipping her hands around his waist.  
“Cinders, I –” but he did not get to finish his protest. He let out a little gasp and her hand slid between his legs and clutched him firmly. His hand shot out, grabbing the closet door, his knuckles white.  
“Good god,” he gasped, as her lips began to caress his neck.  
He’d never felt anything like it in his life. As a boy he’d experimented to some extent, but that had been with other boys, and he hadn’t really enjoyed it all that much. He far preferred women, but he’d never had an encounter like this before. He’d only kissed four or so people before his fiancé. And self-pleasuring had never really been his forte.  
As Dulcie’s right hand continued its work, her left began to unbutton his trousers and loosen his belt. Once she’d done that, she moved both hands to remove his tie, vest, and shirt. He missed the contact between his legs, but as she stripped him, she kissed her way across his shoulders and back, tracing the lines of his freckles and finding sensitive spots beneath his ears and between his shoulder blades. He shivered.  
“Dulcie,” he moaned, as her hands made their way into his trousers.  
“Arthur,” she whispered into his ear.  
She stroked him, slowly and carefully. Since this was his first time, she didn’t want him to get too excited too quickly. He was going to have to wait for that. She moved her hands and took a firm grasp on the back of his trousers.  
“Come with me,” she said. She pulled him towards the bed with no difficulty. His legs were like putty beneath him already, and he collapsed onto the bed when she pushed him down. He began to roll over onto his back, but she held him down. “No,” she ordered. “Stay on your stomach.”  
He didn’t think this was the way sex worked, at least not from what he had heard, but he wasn’t about to protest now. She got a good hold on his trousers and undershorts and pulled them off together. His buttocks were tight and round, his thighs visibly muscular. She hummed with delight.  
“God, you’re beautiful,” she said.  
He flushed. He’d never thought he would have liked being called beautiful, but it got him rather excited – even more excited than he was already.  
“Please,” he began, but stopped as she began to kiss her way down his spine, her hands on his hips. Her tongue licked the noticeable bumps along his back. He was so thin. She liked that. She was just reaching his buttocks, when he moved his hands to try to interact with her. Without a thought, she sat up and grabbed them, straddling him to shove them down above his head. He let out a little cry of alarm. It was not that he did not like it, he just had not been expecting it. She leaned down and gently kissed beneath his ear.  
“Do you trust me?” she asked.  
“Yes, implicitly,” he said, half into the sheets.  
“What is your safe word?” she asked.  
“M-my what?” he asked honestly.  
Right, she’d almost forgotten. “What will you say if you want me to stop?”  
“Oh, er… stop, I suppose.”  
“Something else,” she said, “Sometimes you’ll say stop without meaning it. I want to be clear what you mean.”  
He hesitated, feeling slightly nervous. “I… cricket?”  
She smiled. “Sounds perfect.” She had not let up her tight grasp on his wrists. She reached over to her bag and pulled out a silk cord, slipping it around his wrists and pulling it just tight enough to make his wrists throb slightly, but not tight enough to cut off his blood flow.  
A chill went up his spine. He had never expected to like something like this, yet here he was, deliciously eager for her to do more.  
“Alright,” he said, taking a handful of sheet. “What are you going to do n-”  
As had happened several times already that evening, he did not get to finish his sentence. She had begun kissing her way back down his spine and across his shoulders. It was remarkable how good it felt. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to focus fully on the sensation of her lips, her tongue, her teeth, sucking, licking, biting him. She thrusted gently against his buttocks. He let out a soft moan. It made him feel strange, excited, and a little bit dirty, to feel the lace and silk rub against him, his wrists tied above his head. His hands clenched the sheets tighter. His prick began to ache for release. He bit his lip.  
“Not yet,” she breathed, noticing as he began to thrust in time with her. She spread his legs apart, kneeling between them. Her fingers ran down between his buttocks. He flinched when her fingers touched his anus, pressing slightly. He’d never heard anything about this kind of sex. She leaned down, kissing either side and then resting on his anus, her tongue gently pressing inside. He grabbed the sheets even tighter, if that was possible, letting out a drawn-out moan as she kept up the motion, her fingers pressing between his balls and anus to find his prostate.  
“Shit!” he gasped, as pleasure shot up through him.  
“I’m going to go inside you,” she said, “Is that alright?”  
“Yes!” he said, perhaps a little too eagerly. She went back to working on him with her tongue. He couldn’t help but thrust slightly into the sheets. She reached underneath him and took hold of his prick, running her hand up and down it as she sucked her fingers. She slowly pressed against his anus. His whole body went tight.  
“Relax,” she hummed. She removed her hand from his penis, and she saw his muscles relax. She put her fingers back inside her mouth, making sure they were wet with saliva, and slowly inserted one finger inside him, curving it slightly towards his belly button. She pulled out.  
“Don’t stop,” he whimpered through gritted teeth.  
She smiled, working her finger gently inside and out, paying careful attention to his prostate. His body quivered beneath her touch. She moaned erotically as she pulled her finger out, then pressed two back inside. She fucked him gently with one hand pulling his cheeks back so she could kiss him around her steady fingers.  
“Goddammit,” he gasped, burying his face in the bed. “Please, I need to – to…”  
He wasn’t even sure of the right word. He was so full, he needed release. He was desperate.  
“Please!”  
“No,” she said firmly. “Not yet.”  
She removed her fingers, causing him to moan at the loss of her contact. She made him wait what seemed like an eternity before she put her fingers back inside, gently, as deeply as she could, curling her fingers. His head spun, fire shooting through him. He gasped, clenched his teeth, and arched his back.  
“That’s right,” she said, curving her fingers again. “Orgasm for me, but don’t come. You’re not allowed to come yet.”  
It wasn’t hard for him to follow her first command. He’d never felt anything like it before. His whole body shook, his fingers clenching the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white.  
“Shit, shit, shit,” was all he could say.  
“My dirty boy,” she whispered, “Such language.”  
He calmed for a moment, feeling release, but his prick still ached with longing. She reached beneath him.  
“Get on your knees,” she demanded. He complied without a second’s hesitation, on his knees with his face still pressed in the sheets. She took hold of him, stroking his penis, first slowly, then faster. He could feel it, he was about to come. She quickly let go, leaving him at a loss.  
“Dulcie!”  
“I’m in control,” she said firmly. “You’ll come when I say.”  
He bit his lip. “Yes,” he said, feeling both humiliated and aroused.  
She took his prick again, stroking, faster, faster – he couldn’t last much longer, he knew it. He held on as tightly as he could, clenching his jaws.  
She leaned down towards his here, thrusting against his buttocks and stroking him in the same motion.  
“You may come now,” she whispered.  
It was all she needed to say. He came all over the bedspread, moaning so loudly that the neighbors might have heard.  
He fell down onto the bed, unable to lift himself up. Everything was so still, quiet, and despite the fact he hadn’t done much but lay there, he felt exhausted, and covered in sweat. She laid down beside him, turning him onto his side so she could gently kiss him and stroke his curly brown hair, slipping the silk tie from around his wrists.  
“You did so beautifully,” she said. “We’ll get a little more exciting next time.”  
He looked at her with wide eyes. “More exciting?”  
“Oh yes,” she smiled. “I have so much more to teach you.”


End file.
